Drat It: Good feelings carry on from generation to generation

Oct. 31, 2013

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Features editor

It was late May, and I was a freshman in high school. The school year was almost over, and I had a busy day ahead of me — a band field trip, a special project to complete for French class and a ton of homework.

I was scrambling to get caught up with everything because on the preceding weekend, I’d helped Mom throw a baby shower for my sister-in-law, Robin, who was expecting twins. I was going to be an aunt, and I was thrilled.

The baby shower had been a lot of fun. We served fussy little sandwiches with colored bread — yellow, pink and green. It sounds absolutely disgusting now, but at the time it seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world.

The most amazing thing about the shower, though, was seeing my size-zero sister-in-law pregnant with twins. Her belly looked absolutely huge.

The party was a great success, but Robin was clearly exhausted by the time it was over. Within a day or two, she was in the hospital as doctors tried to halt her early labor.

When we went to bed Wednesday, her condition seemed stable. But at some point in the middle of the night, Mom woke me up. The babies were coming. She and Dad were headed for the hospital.

I was to go back to sleep if I could, then get myself off to school in the morning. They’d call me as soon as they knew more.

By the time I showed up in my first-period French class, I was the aunt of two tiny, but healthy, boys: Justin and Nathan. Mom said they were absolutely adorable.

All I wanted to do was go meet them, but that was not to be. First, I had to get through a few classes.

At mid-morning, I climbed on a bus to travel to the Massillon State Hospital for the Insane, where the school concert band was supposed to perform.

It was not the sort of gig many high school bands play. If I recall correctly, our band director’s brother worked there or something.

We were given a tour of the grounds before our concert, and suffice to say it was an eye-opening experience.

It was not a happy place, and it was jarring to visit there on a day when my own heart was so full of joy.

We got back to school in time to finish out the school day. After the final bell rang, I had to stick around for band practice. I went home for a quick meal, then had to walk over to a classmate’s house to complete that special project for French class.

Jeff and I had to make a vanilla mousse with strawberry sauce for a special lesson on French cuisine.

I was exhausted and frustrated because I still hadn’t met my new nephews. Jeff just wanted to get the stupid thing done and get on with his life, because he was graduating in a few days. Neither one of us knew a thing about cooking, and our recipe wasn’t really geared to beginners. It was, in one word, a catastrophe. That’s French for “disaster,” for those of you who have never made a vanilla mousse with strawberry sauce.

We managed to end up with something that looked edible, but by the time my parents picked me up, it was getting pretty late.

My parents had been up since the middle of the night. I’m not sure if they had eaten yet, either. Clearly, we all just needed to go home and get some sleep.

But my parents were very understanding: They drove me all the way to the hospital in downtown Akron so I could meet the twins.

They were so sweet, with their little Jacques Cousteau-style knit caps that helped keep their tiny heads warm. Justin’s soft fringe of hair was curly at the back, but other than that, they looked just alike.

I was in love. Those little boys were absolutely perfect, and I was so proud to be their aunt.

I remember the day they came home from the hospital, and we all crowded around Lee and Robin’s tiny living room, hoping for a chance to hold a baby for a few minutes. We decided that since they were the first grandchildren on either side of the family, it had been very clever of Lee and Robin to have twins — one for each grandma to hold.

They got bigger so quickly. Justin seemed to cry more while they were teething, while Nathan seem imperturbable. For a while, we called them Fussy Justin and Nuthin’ Nathan.

Once they were toddlers, I became their regular babysitter on Saturday nights. We had all sorts of adventures, but I always managed to have them tucked into bed and the house back in order by the time their parents got home.

I watched them grow up.

Your view of the world changes the first time you watch a child grow up, I think — whether it’s twin nephews, a neighbor’s kid or your own child. The world seems so much more threatening, and you want so much to warn them of what’s ahead. Inevitably, they insist upon finding out for themselves.

My nephews, though, have made their way through the world with uncommon grace and good judgment. If you think I’m just saying that because I’m a doting aunt, you are probably right.

But last weekend, I watched Nathan marry a beautiful young woman. He said “I do” so loudly, so emphatically. I saw the way Justin, the best man, smiled at his own very-pregnant wife, rubbing her belly on cue when he saw me get ready to shoot a photo. And I listened to their little sister talk about how excited she is about finally becoming an aunt. Marissa has waited a long time for this.

I’m sure Marissa will be as thrilled as I was — and I bet she won’t even have to make a vanilla mousse with strawberry sauce before she gets to meet the new arrival.

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